Evelyn Rogina Doussard
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Niobrara County Library
Evelyn Rogina Doussard, daughter of Frank Rogina, was born in Montana. She, her brother and father later moved to Lusk, Wyoming where they lived in a small house on the outskirts of town. Here, she attended first through eighth grade before moving to Utah. She has written articles for the Deseret News in Salt Lake City and for many years wrote a weekly column for the Green River Star in Wyoming. Ms. Doussard retired as a contracting officer after thirty-one years with the federal government and resides with her husband in Salt Lake City.
"Have you ever had a life's dream you ached to fulfill? A yearning so deep you could almost taste it, yet you have no idea how to begin your journey? Well, that was me. For many years my heart's longing was to write a book. It gnawed at me. I wanted to leave behind a small piece of myself that would declare, "I was here!" I finally decided I must begin my dream, even if it was only to quiet that gnawing ache inside of me. So, I began my nebulous, unknown trek, step by step; thus, "Dusty Roads" was born.
"If one word could describe "Dusty Roads", it would be life, for each poem is of a real person; individual tapestries woven from the threads of those who lived it.
"In June, 2007, my husband and I went to Lusk where I attended my class reunion. Before returning home, I went to the Yellow Hotel and walked through the doorway of the empty, dilapidated building, now faded to a soft, pale yellow. I was now in Dell's world. I could feel her presence.
"I went home and wrote the poem, "Queen of the Night" (Legend of Dell Burke and her Yellow Hotel). The poem holds true facts; however, a special man that Dell may have loved is woven in. There is a fine line between truth and fiction, for who is to say that Dell Burke didn't have this special love in her life? I know she did ... she was with me as I wrote."
Excerpt from "Queen of the Night":
The handsome man spoke, a look in his eye,
That told how he loved her, but didn't know why;
He squeezed Dell's hand and began to speak,
In a soft, low voice, rich and deep...
May one of my poems carry you on a wondrous journey down your own dusty road ...for our minds are magical. With a word, a smell or a sight, we are flown back on wings of lightning, reliving memories long lost; momentarily suspended in another time and place."
Comment from the Editor of "Dusty Roads", "This is the best poetry I have had the pleasure of editing."